in the land of gods and monsters
by blue and gold
Summary: —A god and a girl. – [YatoHiyori/ 34 drabbles]
1. all you are to me

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_001./ _all you are to me

* * *

She is soft skin and warmer lips, the smell of plum blossoms and soap—dark hair, sleek and thin, against pale shoulders. A heartbeat, thrumming against his fingertips, as he brushes his hand against the skin of her neck, fingers curling around her nape.

(She is a gentle smile; a swish of a cat's tail; a hand in his own; a push at his back; a nagging in his ear; a flush against his skin.)

Her eyelashes flutter, and she looks at him, irises pink and dark.

He leans in—in—

—and in the quiet of the dark, his heartbeat matches her own.


	2. with or without you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_002./_ with or without you

* * *

In the evenings, he walks her home.

The cold has her walking quick, as she shoulders her book bag, her breath coming out in huffs. "You know," she tells him, keeping her chin tucked under her scarf. "You don't have to take care of me."

He's a few paces ahead, hands tucked into his jersey. Yato scoffs: "Yeah, right—knowing you, you'd probably leave your body somewhere and get yourself killed."

"I would _not_." She counters, pursing her lips; "I can look after myself just fine—_you're_ the one who needs help."

"When?" Yato asks, not looking back.

"With Yukine." Hiyori replies. "With jobs. With food. With money. With—"

"—Alright. I get it." But, he glances over his shoulder, grin cat–like. "But, just think of how boring your life would be without me."

She pauses, blinking. (It's true—no Yato or Yukine; no weekend plans; no recorded matches of Tono-sama; extra five–yen coins; no sweaty palms and stinky jerseys; no nice smell of—)

Hiyori flushes; buries her chin farther into her scarf.

And Yato—the _jerk_—grins, and says: "Ne, _Hiyori-chan,_ you're _blushing_~"


	3. got my eye on you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_003./_ got my eye on you

(for **emeraldd30**)

* * *

He watches out for her. (She's a walking disaster; leaving her body at school, on the streets, in the city, the stupid girl, with her nice hair, and pretty eyes, and—)

Yato shakes his head. (—But, really, what's he _supposed_ to do? Let her get herself killed? No, he owes her a debt—owes her a lot. His life, for one, [and some days: his heart], and Yato believes in paying your dues. […Sometimes.])

He shuffles, slightly, and tries to move— (Shit, his leg's fallen asleep.) "Damn it." He mutters. "Stupid human trashcans with their _stupid_—"

"—_What was that?"_

_Oh, _shit_._

"_What's wrong, Yama-chan?"_ Hiyori. (With her soft voice, and caring heart, and—) Yato pauses and thinks about, for a moment, how angry she would be if she found him—following her, hiding in a trashcan. (Probably _really_ angry.)

_"I could have _sworn that…_I heard that trashcan _talking."

_"I didn't hear anything."_

_"…Y…Yeah, it was probably nothing."_

_"Ne, are you sure you're not going crazy, Yama-chan?"_

_"Hey, stop making fun of me…"_

—And then they're gone.

Yato sighs—and he can feel his leg prickling and his heart thudding—(on to the next trashcan).

* * *

Yukine leans against the shrine steps, shifting uneasily. (It's getting dark; where is that idiot? That no–good, jersey–wearing, sweaty–handed bastard—)

"Hey, brat,"

He looks up. "Look who finally showed up," Yukine gripes at Yato, standing; and then: "You look terrible."

Yato curls his lip at him. "Shut up."

Yukine takes another step forward, and feels his nose wrinkle. "And you _smell_ terrible."

Yato gives him a look that could curdle milk.

Raising an eyebrow, Yukine wonders: "Where were you, anyway?"

With an indignant sniff, Yato says: "Being a good person. Now," he adds: "to Tenjin's place!"

* * *

_a/n: thank you for your support, reviews, favorites, and follows; not only for this story, but for this great fandom and manga / anime._


	4. you drive me crazy

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_004./ _you drive me crazy

* * *

"Yato, you're such a jerk!"

"No, _you're a_ jerk!"

"_No_, you're a jerk!"

"Well, you're…jerky…–er…!"

"—That isn't even a word!"

"—You—You're not a word!"

"That doesn't make sense!"

"_You_ don't' make sense!"

"Ugh, you're such an idiot!"

"No, _you're_ an idiot!"

_"No,_ you're a—"

* * *

"—Please _make them stop."_ Yukine groans, putting his head in his hands.

"I want to," Daikoku grouses, "I really, _really_ want to," he turns to Kofuku. "Can I?"

"Iya, iya," Kofuku shakes her head, "Let them have their fun~!"

"Their _fun_ is taking up space in _my_ living room." Daikoku complains.

"And I want to leave before it gets _dark_." Yukine adds.

"Oh, but they're so _cute_ when they argue~!" Kofuku hums, before latching herself onto Daikoku's arm. "Just like us, right, Daikoku~?"

"Right, right," he broods, absently, before— "—Wait, what?"

* * *

"You call yourself a _god? _You're—You're just a _hobo!"_

"Well, you're—you're— Your tail's _stupid!"_

"Ugh, you're so—so—! I can't believe—!"

"What—What can't you believe?!"

"I—I can't believe I fell in love with such an _idiot!"_

"Oh, yeah? Well— Wait, _what_?"

* * *

_a/n: whoops, hiyori-you spilled the beans!_


	5. a little bit better

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_005./ _a little bit better

* * *

She treats them to lunch, (mostly because of Yukine's grumbling stomach—_not_ because of Yato's begging).

After _loads_ of food—that Yato eats, mostly, because "gods don't poop_"_, he reminds her—and gallons of drinks, the tab comes.

"I'll get it," Hiyori sighs, taking out her purse. She's about to lay down her yen, when—

"—No, I got it." Yato says, grabbing her wrist.

Hiyori blinks—Yukine looks as surprised as she is—and blushes a little, at the feel of his fingers wrapped around her arm. "Um," she says lamely, and then, "O—Okay."

Yato nods, and she thinks his cheeks look a little _redder_ than usual, then places the yen on the tabletop.

They're all quiet, for a moment, looking at the money, (in disbelief, Hiyori thinks).

Then, Yukine remarks to Yato, from across the booth: "Well, I don't know about a _god_—but, I guess you're a step up from a sweaty–handed, smelly hobo."

* * *

_n/a: a little late(-ish), but happy valentine's day! two drabbles as a present!_


	6. my weakness is you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_006./_ you are my weakness

(_a/n: if you aren't up to date with the _**manga**_**,**__ this is _spoilery)

* * *

The winter air is crisp.

"What is she, to you?" Nora asks, perched on the bench, outside of Tenjin's shrine.

"Who?" Yato counters, standing meters away, feigning indifference.

"That girl." Nora says, eyes narrowing, slightly. "The half–phantom."

Yato lets out a bark of a laugh—does not smile. "If I didn't know any better, Nora, I'd say you were jealous."

Nora purses her lips. (Yato didn't answer.)

* * *

The girl is entirely useless. (Human and phantom, a combination of the worst things of this mortal world.) She parades after Yato and his boy–Shinki, talks and smiles, eats lunch with them, goes with them on jobs.

(And Yato—_allows_ it. Enjoys it. Smiles with the girl, too. Like he once did, with her. He likes the human–phantom—wants her; maybe, _loves_—)

Nora watches them from afar. She frowns.

* * *

"I believe I have found his weakness." She tells Kugaha.

"Oh, really~?" He looks at her. "And how did you manage that, hmm~?"

She tilts her head to the side. "That's a secret."

* * *

_a/n: kugaha is vaiśravana's creepy-ass witch doctor shinki. (yes, that is my name for him.)_


	7. don't you forget

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_007./_ don't you forget

* * *

"You'll come over Sunday, right?" He asks her, leaning against the doorframe of Kofuku and Daikoku's place. "To help Yukine with his math, or whatever it is." He adds. It's already evening; he looks much taller, much older, much paler, in the dark.

Hiyori watches him, and feels herself blush, (for looking at him, his eyes, his lips—). She purses her lips, but nods. "Sure." She says, and steps off the porch. "I'll see you later, then…?"

Yato nods. "Yeah. Later."

She heads down the walkway. (She almost forgets to wave goodbye.)

* * *

"Ne, do you want to do something tomorrow?" Yama-chan asks, over the phone.

Hiyori pauses. _I could have sworn I was busy Sunday_.

She glances at her calendar. Blank.

_Oh, well,_ she decides, "Sure."

(It was probably nothing.)

* * *

_a/n: celebrating over 600 visitors! (huzzah!) thanks for all the support! reviews, per usual, are appreciated._


	8. but i'm yours

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_008./_ but i'm yours

* * *

"You," she tells him, pressed softly against his side, "are a bed–hog."

He scoffs at her, turning over to look at her intently with blue—_very_ blue—eyes. "Am not." He smells—despite the jersey, and the sweaty–hands—_very_ nice; though, she guesses this is because she let him use her shower.

"Are, too." She laughs, running tentative hands up his chest, over his shirt, his collarbone, around his neck. "But, you're _my_ bed–hog," she murmurs, leaning up to press her lips against his, and—

—Well, it's very, _very_ nice. (Warm and soft; lovely, really—it makes her heart thrum in her ears. _He_ makes her heart thrum.)

He pulls away, slightly, face flushed—_adorable_—and lets out a stuttering laugh, "Maybe—but, I'm _still_ not a bed–hog."

"Are, too," she repeats, smiling.

He _pouts_.

"Oh," she laughs, quietly, "poor baby." She pecks his lips—just to make him feel better, really—but, she doesn't expect him to duck back down, hands soft and warm on her hips.

His lips are by her ear, and she feels herself _flush_, hands fidgeting around his nape.

"Maybe," he murmurs, eyes smoldering like blue fire, "but, I'm _yours_."

* * *

_a/n: __**Kit2000**__ suggested some fluffy romance—so, I give you some fluffy romance! Reviews, please?_


	9. you are not a demon

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_009./_ you are not a demon

_(a/n: this is _**au**, _and takes place in the _Warring States period._)_

* * *

She walks down the beaten path, back to the village, at dusk.

All is well and quiet and _calm_—'til she hears the sound of a branch, groaning and crackling, far above her head. The sound echoes forlornly, in the forest of towering pines.

"My, my, my," a voice chides, high above her head, "tell me: what's a little human like you doing in a big forest like this?"

Hiyori stills, feels her heart stall and her fingers tremble.

Then, she hears the shaking of the branch—hears it sway as the figure leaps off of it—and she feels the sprinkling of pine needles tumbling down on her head a moment later.

She does not know what she expects, when the figure lands in front of her, in a cat–like crouch—perhaps fangs, claws, skin like leather and eyes like a spider's.

Instead, she sees a boy—a little older than her, perhaps—with soft, dark hair, a loose kimono, and a wicked–looking sword slung over his shoulder.

(What catches her, however, are his eyes—bluer than the sky; and what she imagines to be the sea. They are lovely eyes, really, that do not match the cunningness of his smile.)

"You are not—" she breathes, voice catching, "—You are not a demon."

His grin widens, "No," he agrees, taking a step forward—_closer_. "Not quite."

* * *

_a/n: this was a tidbit from a yatori story i am __considering__ posting; a pilot, if you will-tell me what you think of it, in a review!_


	10. i notice you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_010./ _i notice you

* * *

It's the first warm day of spring, and she wears a dress. (She likes it, the way the skirt swishes around her calves as she walks the trek to Kofuku and Daikoku's shop—she's hoping _someone else_ will like it, too.)

She walks around the rickety fence—she recalls, faintly, that Yato was supposed to fix that, per Daikoku's orders, some time ago—and, then, up the stone walkway.

"Hiyori!"

She looks up, and sees Yato, standing on the porch. "Hey, Yato," She hums, walking up the steps, before slipping off of her sandals and setting them down on the ground.

"Wha—What are you _wearing?"_

Hiyori looks at him. She raises an eyebrow. "A dress. It's really warm out, ne?"

"I—I—Well, _yeah_, but—" Yato's face looks uncomfortably red—the kind of red that you get when you have a rash—and he scratches absently at the back of his neck. "—I mean, I can see your _arms_."

"Yes… Most people have arms, you see."

"I know _that_," he snaps, "but—I—you—and I can see your _legs_."

"So?" She wonders. "You see my legs most of the time—why does it matter _now?"_

"'cause you're not wearing _stockings_." He says, like it's obvious.

Hiyori is about to reply—very _smartly_, too—'til she thinks about, and asks, blushing: "You notice?"

Yato blinks—and then swallows—and then blinks, again, before his face turns a shade of brick red. "I—well, uh—y'see—I mean, I—I—I mean, _yeah_, sometimes."

"Oh." She breathes.

"Yeah." He says, scratching the back of his neck.

"—Hiyori!" Yukine bursts out, and then, as soon as he sees her, he flushes. "What are you _wearing?"_

* * *

_a/n: i think the alternate title to this should be 'yato and yukine acting like total dorks around hiyori'._ _also, because of the great response i got for that story, last chapter, i'm going to be posting it, (hopefully, by next weekend)! it's going to be called_ **Where Spirits Tread**_, so, look forward to it, 'kay?_


	11. your name is—

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_011./ _your name is—

_(a/n: this is_ **au**_, sort of.)_

* * *

Yato feels the horror rising inside of him, building and pressing outward.

Feet away, the girl—_Hiyori_, he remembers, absently, from the sobbing cries her friends give, crowded around her—lies, in front of the bus. She is not moving. (He cannot see the telltale rise and fall of her chest; he imagines, if he put his ear to it, he would not hear a heartbeat; if he put his fingers to her throat, he thinks, he would not feel a pulse.)

And, then, he sees it—the girl's spirit, a rising ball of fluorescent light, floating out of her body, 'til it hovers over her.

(Fresh spirits are fresh food; it is the rule of ayakashi. The girl, what's left of her, will be consumed by nightfall, unless—)

Unless—

(It is the rightest thing in a _very_ wrong situation, he tells himself. The lesser of two evils.)

"You," he breathes, feeling his teeth rattle and his fingers tremble, "who have nowhere to go and cannot pass on. I'll give you a place to stay. My name is Yato." He raises his hand, forefinger and center finger pointing, "Lingering here, gripping thine true name… I make thou mine servant with thine alias… Thy name is follower, thy vessel is sound… Obey mine order and become my Shinki. Thy name is—"

* * *

_(a/n: this is _another_ story i'm _considering _posting; i.e., if hiyori had died in her bus accident, and yato took her as a shinki. tell me if you think i should post it, 'kay?)_


	12. when i had someone like you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_012./ _when i had someone like you.

_(a/n: if you have not read _chapter seventeen _of the _**manga**_, then this is _spoilery.)

* * *

Kazuma watches Yato gripe and groan, roll on the floor and whine piteously at the loss of his beer.

"Hiyo_ri_~" he cries, "Bring it _ba~_ck—!"

"_No_. You're too young for alcohol." She snaps, from the kitchen—where she is either putting it in the refrigerator, or disposing of it altogether.

"Bullshit," Yato snaps, "I'm _centuries_ ol— _Whatareyoudoingdon'tthrowit_out!" He screeches, scrambling to his knees, crawling to the kitchen. "It's still _good! It's still good!"_ He wails. "_No—!"_

—Judging by that, Kazuma wagers on the latter.

"_Cut it out!"_ Hiyori cries, from the kitchen.

Daikoku snorts, sitting cross–legged on the floor next to Kazuma. "Never seen him move _that_ fast before." He grumbles.

"Ne, ne~" Kofuku agrees, with a smile, "but, they're _adorable_."

"_No—! My precious!"_ Yato sobs.

Kazuma takes a calming sip of his tea. He smiles, knowingly. [He won't tell Kofuku; but they are. He rubs the character on his hand, absently, and thinks of a time when he held someone's heart like that, too.]

* * *

_(a/n:_ _did anyone spot _all _of my three top, [and only] noragami pairings in here?) ; )_


	13. by myself, i have no self

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_013./ _by myself, i have no self

_(a/n: if you have not read _chapter seventeen _of the _**manga**_, then this is _spoilery._)_

* * *

He presses the palm of his hands against his eyelids.

_(This can't be happening.)_

He breathes—_tries _to—and feels the heft of his chest rising and falling, his lungs collapsing and expanding.

_(This _can't _be happening_._)_

Yato's back rests against the wall—he feels the press of coarse stone against his spine, feels the cool slabs of concrete underneath him.

_(This can't be _happening.)

He _feels_ it—feels everything as though his very world rests on the tip of a pin, teetering on a threshold of _griefpain_loss_anger_fury_._

_(_This _can't be happening.)_

_[Yato sees her, still, burned into his eyelids—pretty and pale, lying and waiting. He can feel her skin underneath his palm, the tips of his fingers, as he nudges her. _Wake up, _he says, _wake up. _But she is lying and waiting—never waking, and he feels the first sickening curl of furious grief tremble within him.]_

_(_Please, _tell me this isn't happening.)_

He opens his eyes—blue, cold, _furious_.

[Vaisravana be damned—the world be damned. He will take back what is _his_, raise hell to this earth or raze heaven to this very ground. She will regret the day she provoked the wrath of a god of _war_.]

* * *

_(a/n: 1. i know that the western version of 'hell' and 'heaven' don't apply so much to japanese shintō and buddhist concepts, but… i liked the line, i suppose. 2. did i mention that this chapter took my heart, ripped it out of my chest, and ate it? because…yeah. also, yatti—don't forget kazuma!) :'(_


	14. what i do for you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_014./_ what i do for you

* * *

She's sitting next to him, popcorn bag on her lap—she took it away from him half an hour ago, calling him greedy—her head tilted to the side as she watches the movie on the big screen. (When she asked him if he'd like to go to the cinema with her, he'd replied, _Like a date?_ And she'd blushed, and said: _Yes. Like a date_.)

Hiyori shifts, slightly, and her elbow, lying on the armrest, brushes against his forearm. He feels himself blush.

"Ne, isn't this is really good, Yato?" She says, voice soft and eyes still watching the screen; he doesn't know if she's talking about the popcorn or the movie, but he nods, anyway, watching her.

(He finds that that happens a lot.)

Leaning back in his chair, he thinks. (About her, mostly—but about things like yen, too, and how much he'd like some of that popcorn. Like, _really_ like it.)

Yato bites his lip to hide his grin; he slowly lifts his arm, above her shoulders, then, around them. (He tries to ignore the heat that skirts across his face; the soft hairs of her nape brushing against his forearm, the way she smells like soap and—) Then, arm around her, he _reaches_ for the popcorn bag with outstretched fingers—

"—Y—Yato."

He stops—his heart does, too—and looks at her, "Y—Yeah?"

Hiyori blushes, and a smile peeks out across her face, "If you'd wanted to…put an arm around me—you could have asked. You don't have to sneak around."

"P—Put an arm around—?" _Oh._ Yato realizes. Then, blushes. (He flusters easily.) "I—I was reaching for the popcorn."

Hiyori's face turns redder. And then, it darkens to crimson. "Oh?" Her voice is tight. "Well—_here_." And she _dumps_ the bag of popcorn on top of his head. Then, she crosses her arms, huffs, and turns her face back to the screen.

Yato watches her, bag on his head, and uses his free hand to take a fistful of popcorn, chewing on it thoughtfully.

(He wonders if she notices that he hasn't moved his arm.)

* * *

_a/n: what do you think? was it for the popcorn-or hiyori?_

_[also, to the most recent 'Guest': i'll be posting the first, full chapter of the story this weekend. it will be called '_**Golden**_'. what you read earlier was just a teaser.] _;)

_thanks, guys, for all the support! _ :)


	15. i'd like you to know

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_015./ _i'd like you to know

* * *

Yato tugs at his collar. "I miss my jersey." He whines. And it's true—he does. Collared shirts are over–rated, anyway—no one he knows wears them; not even Tenjin, when he's playing dress up—

"No jersey." Hiyori persists. "My mother's old fashioned, so…"

"'No jerseys.'" He repeats, scowling, "but—"

"—No."

"—But—"

"—No." Hiyori insists, turning him to face her, straightening out his collar. On her porch, in the dim light, she looks even prettier, he thinks. Then, she blushes, "Besides, you—you look good without it."

Yato flushes. Then, awkwardly, he asks: "Are you implying that I don't look good _with_ it?"

Hiyori rolls her eyes, face red, still. "You look fine anytime." She tells him, then, adds: "When you aren't talking, of course."

"_Hey_."

Then, the door opens. (To a prim looking couple—Hiyori's parents. Yato feels his stomach curl.)

"O—Okā-sama," Hiyori turns, smiling; her hand clasps Yato's, and he feels his heart beat furiously in his chest. "O—Otō-sama. This—" she looked up, from underneath her dark eyelashes, and smiled, "—This is my boyfriend, Yato."

* * *

_a/n: i'd like to send a huge thank you to all of my reviewers; the anonymous ones, especially, because i don't get the chance to talk to them very often!_

_anywho, the first chapter of _**Golden** _is out! check it out! also, i'm working to have the first chapter of_ **Where Spirits Tread**_ out soon; i know i said i'd have it out this weekend, but...well, it's taking a lot of work! sorry! _:(

_aside from that, review? _:)


	16. who i thought you were

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_016./ _who i thought you were

_(a/n: if you have not read _chapter eighteen_ of the _**manga**_, then this is_ spoilery._)_

* * *

Hiyori leans against the wall of the cave, (_cell_, but, she doesn't like to think about it like that). The coldness of the rock permeates through her clothes, against her back.

Kazuma paces back and forth, the tap of his feet echoing against the stone floor.

(But it isn't that that resounds with her—it's the quiet look in his eyes, as he tells her, _"Yato killed off the '-ma' clan."_)

She feels a shiver tremble down her spine, where she can sense what remains of her cord fading, its place at the base of her back disappearing, (her attachment to the Near Shore disappearing—but, she tries not to think about that, either).

Hiyori cradles her legs against her chest, presses her chin to her kneecaps.

_"What I heard about Yato-chan," _Kofuku said, _"was from a horrible rumor."_

Hiyori bites her lip.

_"—It was that he killed a Shinki."_

She squeezes her eyes shut tight, (as her heart clenches, too).

_"I am attacking you due to a personal grudge,"_ Vaisravana stated.

She presses the palms of her hands against her ears.

_"They were eradicated."_ Kazuma told her.

Hiyori feels her eyes sting, (tries not to cry; fails, and wonders whom she's crying for—Kazuma's brethren, herself, or the person she thought Yato was).

* * *

_a/n: i suppose this could be considered as a follow-up to "by myself, i have no self". poor hiyori. _:'(_ anywho, we're almost at the half-way mark of this story! huzzah! i have a very special drabble reserved, so, everyone look forward to it! _:D _per usual, thank you for the support you've lent this story-and _**Golden**_! more reviews are always appreciated._


	17. home is where you are

He slips in through the window.

It's dark, but he can still see the crib, pushed against the wall. A mobile hangs above it, figurines twirling slowly—a girl with pink hair, another with white; an eldery man dressed in old robes, and a young man in a jersey. In between them, small objects dangle; a pair of cherry blossom earrings, a set of black fans, a pipe, and a slim, pale sword.

Yato walks to the crib's side, and leans over. "Hey, little girl," he murmurs. He bends down, picking her up and resting her against his chest.

Yukari lets out a gurgle. Her face is pale, except for her cheeks—always chubby and cherry–tomato red—and the dark tufts of soft hair on her head. She clenches pudgy fingers into his jersey

"Hey," he mumbles, "don't stretch that."

—If anything, she grips it harder.

He lets out a quiet laugh and walks to the corner of the room, where a nightlight puts patterns of the stars against the white of the walls and ceiling. He sits down in the rocking chair and leans back, lets the wood creak as he drifts back and forth.

Yukari burbles something unintelligible, and she looks up at him with wide eyes. (_Purple_, he thinks—though, in the bright light of day, they look almost pink, and in the evening, nearly blue.)

"You shouldn't wake her up in the middle of the night."

Yato looks up, sees Hiyori leaning against the doorframe, the light from the hall pooling around her. She's wearing a nightgown. He snorts. "She was awake when I got her."

"_Mm-hmm._ Sure." She walks over, leans against the side of the chair. Her hair pulls over her shoulder—smelling like soap and familiarity—and wisps of it brush against his neck.

"I'm telling the truth," he protests, lightly.

Yukari lets out a gurgle.

"See," Hiyori laughs, softly, "she doesn't believe you, either."

"No fair," he grumbles, "ganging up on me."

Hiyori smiles, presses a chaste kiss to his cheekbone, "Get used to it."

* * *

_a/n: ugh, we're already at the half-way mark! _:( _i just want to say a big thanks to all of my followers, favorite-ers, and those who have taken the time to review, too! and also to all the anonymous reviewers and readers! i appreciate all of the support you have given this story, and _**Golden**, _so far._

_speaking of_ _stories—__the first chapter of _**Where Spirits Tread** _is out and about! _:)

_also, i told you i had something special planned for this chapter. _ ;) _there is nothing cuter than yatori babies and daddy!yato and mommy!hiyori. because yes. also, did anyone catch all the characters secretly / not-so-secretly mentioned?_

_anyway, tell me, what'd'you think of it (and yukari)?_


	18. just enough for you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_018./ _just enough for you

* * *

"Do you ever wonder if I'm worth all your trouble?" Yato breathes against her lips; she smells like soap and cinnamon—looks better than that. It's all he can do to try and hold her.

She looks at him, eyes hazy and voice dazed, face flushed, "I—I don't care—" she murmurs. "—I don't—I don't—"

"—Don't say that," he tells her, pulling back, slightly. "You don't know what you're saying."

Hiyori peers at him, leaning forward 'til she's close again, her hair brushing his jersey. "I know enough about myself," she tells him, "to know what I want—and who's good enough for me. You don't get to say who I can or can't like." Then, she pokes him in the chest. "You're not enough of a hot–shot god, yet."

Yato raises an eyebrow. "You sure told me." He grins, then, and presses his palms against her hips. "Though, I can think of another way that'll _really_ make the message sink in."

"Oh?" Hiyori cocks an eyebrow, wraps her arms around his nape. "And what would that be?"

His grin widens, and he leans in close. "Let me show you."

* * *

_a/n: no one tells hiyori what to do. not even her man. _XD


	19. dream a little dream of me

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_, or _Dream a Little Dream of Me_.

* * *

_019./_ dream a little dream of me

* * *

_He feels like hands skimming up his side—farther, then, across his chest, his collarbone, up the cords of muscle and skin that make his neck. Then, across his nape, before they latch together._

_More than that, he can feel a pair of lips by his throat; then, by his jaw, his temple, the shell of his ear. He can feel breath, tickling his skin, making a shiver rake down his spine._

_"Don't you want to wake up?" A voice murmurs in his ear. A _very_ feminine voice._

_(He smells soap, and something else, too—something all its own and familiar.) "…No…" He breathes._

_There's a soft, laugh. "Oh, but I think you should." The lips brush his ear. "It's almost morning~"_

_He lets out a groan. "Fuck the morning."_

_"Oh, no," she laughs, "I don't think you want that." Lips skim his cheekbone, "In fact, I think you should wake up." Then, over his brow and the bridge of nose._

_"No," he mutters._

_"Yes."_

_"No~"_

_"Yes."_

_"Yes, Yato—it's time to wake up."_

_"But I don't—"_

_"—Wake up—wake up—"_

_"I—"_

_"—_Wake _up!"_

Yato feels himself get shoved—_hard_—and he rolls away with an audible _oomph_ and a follow–up curse. He looks up, "What the _fuck_ was that for?" He groans, and gives his best _I–hate–you–and–I–want–you–to–get–devoured–by–ayakashi–painfully_ look at Yukine.

"What _I_ want to know," Yukine splutters, "is why you were _moaning_ in your sleep, you dirty, perverted lecher?"

* * *

_a/n: yukine hit the nail on the head with that one. _XD


	20. i want to be the only one

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_.020/_ i want to be the only one

* * *

"I—um, Kofuku-san," she twiddles her fingers, and looks down at her cup of tea that sits on the kotatsu. "I—well, I—I sort of have a—a question."

Kofuku, onigiri stuffed halfway in her mouth, mumbles, "Oh, Hiyorin?"

Hiyori swallows, and blurts out, finally, "Was there— Was there ever any others?"

Raising an eyebrow, Kofuku looks at her. "Any what, Hiyorin?"

"Other girls," Hiyori squeaks, "with Yato—was there, other girls?"

Kofuku hums, thoughtfully. There are still bits of rice sticking to her chin, and she taps it with her index finger. Then, she says, "Well, sure."

Hiyori's heart seems to drop, while her stomach goes up, into her throat. (She's suddenly glad she didn't drink the tea.) "Oh," she whispers, folding her hands in her lap, "I—I see."

Then, Kofuku lurches across the table, grabbing her hand, "Oh, Hiyorin!" She cries. "It's not like that. Yatty's so _old_, and—well, it's like asking whether an old obā-san's ever had sex!"

Hiyori flushes, leaning back, "I—I never— I _never_ s—said—"

Kofuku looks at her, then, and tsks, "Hiyorin, don't be such a prude! Mean what you ask, and ask what you mean!" Then, she leans back. "'sides, probably not in the last century, or two," Kofuku adds, "Yatty's a big prude, too."

Hiyori wishes that she could drop her body—but that wouldn't solve her problems—and she hangs her head.

It's only after a few minutes have passed—Kofuku sipping on her tea; Hiyori hiding behind her hair—that Hiyori mumbles, "How old, exactly?"

* * *

_a/n: kofuku is smarter than she lets on. (by the way, "obā-san" means "grandma" in japanese; though, kofuku meant it as "old lady".)_


	21. your name is my wish

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_.021/ _your name is my prayer

* * *

"My, my, my—what are you doing all the way out here, this late?"

Hiyori, slip of paper in hand, turns on her heels, and behind her. It's twilight out—the sky purple–blue—but she can still see well enough. She flushes. "Tenjin-sama, I—I didn't—" She holds the paper tightly. "—I didn't mean to intrude."

The old man smiles at her, genially, and then takes a look at the paper in her hand. He raises an eyebrow.

She flushes, harder. "Th—This is nothing, really, just—"

Then, with a flick of his hand, the scrap of paper drifts out of her hand, and into his. Tenjin unravels it, while Hiyori ducks her head, and raises an eyebrow. "This isn't a request regarding knowledge." He said. "In fact, it's quite out of my realm. Wouldn't you rather hand this request to Musubi-no-Kami?"

Hiyori feels shame and embarrassment and— _This is mortifying._ "I—I wouldn't know how to—how to even—" She shakes her head. "I was—I was asking for _advice_ really, and since you're the god of knowledge, I thought—" Then, she pulls out a five–hundred yen bill out of her pocket. (It works for Yato.) "I—I'll pay you for your time…?"

Tenjin looks at her, carefully, then declares, "Free of charge. I'll give you my 'Half–Ayakashi' discount."

(Hiyori doubts there's such a thing.) "Well, th—thank you." She manages.

Tenjin nods. "But, you know, I'm not the best at love advice."

"I think I'll take my chances." She says. Then, adds, "So?"

Again, Tenjin looks at the scrap of paper; then at her. "It's not very wise," he tells her, gently, "a very risky bet, for someone so young."

Hiyori feels disappointment, and she's not very good at hiding it. "Okay," she murmurs, "I—well, thank you for your time." She turns, quickly, and drops the five–hundred yen bill into the slot, anyway.

"However," Tenjin adds, to her turned back, the paper still in his wrinkled hands. "Love never really is."

* * *

(_I want to love the Yato god.)_

* * *

_a/n: "musubi-no-kami" is the japanese god of love and marriage. also, hiyori really needs to stop going to gods for love advice. _XD


	22. you look your best all of the time

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_.022 / _you look best all the time

(for **Kit2000**)

* * *

"This is bullshit," Yato declares.

"No, it is—n't," Kazuma _tsked_, fastening the himo. "Now, _please_, stop squirming and hold _still_."

"It's hard to hold _still_," Yato snaps, "when you're trying to _knock_ me _over_."

Daikoku rolls his eyes. "It's your _wedding_ day and he's helping you get dressed, you pain in the ass. So _shut_ up and _hold_ still."

"No one asked you!" Yato barks.

There's a few more minutes of poking and prodding, 'til the _five_ layers of clothes are all settled. But Kazuma finds a way to knit–pick, and he clucks over Yato like a mother as he straightens the haori.

"There." Kazuma says, stepping back. "Now, as long as you don't touch it, it'll be fine."

"I'm wearing it." Yato replies, smartly. "Kind of hard not to touch it."

"Shut up," Daikoku growls.

—Then, there's a knock at the door.

_"Are you decent?"_ Yukine asks.

Yato's eyebrow furrows. "Why wouldn't we be? Get your mind out of the gutter," he hollers.

Yukine opens the door, rolling his eyes, and shuts it firmly behind him. "I'm a teenager. Like, _forever_. Constant puberty." He reminds him. Then, he looks at Yato. "You don't look half bad."

"—I'll take that as a compliment for my dashing good looks." Yato declares.

"—or Kazuma's ability to turn Raggedy Anne into Cinderella." Daikoku counters.

Kazuma pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, and has the decency to look humble. "It was nothing."

Yukine rolls his eyes, again, (kid's got a talent for it). "Whatever," he says, "you ready to do this? 'cause, if Kofuku breaks another mirror, Hiyori's mom's gonna go crazy."

"She's _already_ crazy." Yato mutters.

"_Hey,_" Daikoku swats the back of his head. "Don't insult your mother–in–law–to–be."

"More like _monster_–in–law." Yato grumbles. "She called me a vagabond_. _A _vagabond_. I'm _centuries_ old, and _I_ didn't even know that was a word."

"Like mother like daughter," Yukine replied, easily.

"Why am I ever here again?" Kazuma wondered.

* * *

(Later—

He sees her, dressed in layers of elaborate, heavy fabric woven together with needle and thread. Her hair is done up, too, held together with a tsunokakushi, and all the ornaments and baubles wedding ceremonies deem necessary. Still, he thinks, dazed and flustered, she's lovely. She could be in anything—or nothing at all; which he prefers—and she always will be.

[And, in the midst of joy, he hardly notices Kofuku bawling into Daikoku's shoulder, while the latter sniffles. Kazuma, in the crowd, smiles knowingly—Yukine grins.]

She smiles at him—he does likewise, back—with faith and trust and all that she has ever given him, and it is the most natural thing in the world to take her hand.)

* * *

_a/n: okay, so this probably isn't what you wanted at all, and i went a little crazy. but yato-yukine-daikoku-kazuma bromance is something i could not pass up and i am sorry._

_also, i was going to stagger these updates; but, then, i was like, screw it, and did it all at once. so, enjoy!_


	23. i find shelter in you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami, Shelter_ by **The XX**, or _The Coldest Girl in Coldtown,_ by **Holly Black**.

* * *

_023./_ i find shelter in you

(for **Yanna Blake**)

* * *

Yato slings an arm over her shoulder.

"If anything happens to me," he whispers in her ear—or, it feels like it; because he is close, _very_ close, so much so that her face heats and her fingers fist knots in her shirt. "Go to those two."

It is only later that Hiyori wonders—

—_Why would anything happen to you?_

* * *

And later—later, when his body burns from within to without—later, when his head splits open with all of the terrible things he must bear—later, when he is sure he will die—

Yato doesn't.

She is there—there in a way no one has ever been for him; she is a hand holding his own, a back shouldering him, an eye looking his way, a thought about him, and Hiyori leaves a piece of herself within his heart every time their strings cross, tangle, and tighten.

And when she throws her arms around him—and Yukine—and cries, for the both of them, for the better of them, for all the bad things that have happened to them, Yato knows what this is.

(More than hope, more than remembrance, more than affection or care—it is to be able to call a person 'home'.)

* * *

("In all my long life, though there were many times I prayed for it, no one has ever saved me. No one but you.")

* * *

_a/n: hope you like it, _**Yanna**, _(i sort of took some artistic liberties...or a lot)_! _(also: title derived from The XX's 'Shelter'; and the ending quote is from Holly Black's 'The Coldest Girl in Coldtown'._

_people often mention how grateful yato is to hiyori for remembering him; and, while this is true, i think it's also plain to see, in all of yato's life, no one has cared quite like hiyori did, (or acted upon it)._


	24. our love is this

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_024./_ our love is this

* * *

He presses his lips to the side of her throat.

"Yato," she laughs, blushes, "Yato, st—_stop_, we're going to get caught—!" Hiyori pushes her hands against the slope of his shoulders, (doesn't push him away).

Yato smirks, holds her hips in his hands, kisses the underside of the curve of her jaw.

"_Yato_," she breathes, and then: "We—We're going to get caught." Her voice slurs, her sight is hazy, and she can't find it in herself to mind.

"Oh, yes—because making out in an attic is the height of impropriety and indecency." He murmurs against her jugular.

"_Kofuku_-chan and _Daikoku_-san's attic." Hiyori reminds him.

Yato rolls his eyes, presses another kiss against her neck. "That prude's just jealous 'cause he hasn't gotten any in—"

"—_Yato, Hiyori?"_

Hiyori's eyes widen.

Yato blinks.

"Y—Yukine, don't—"

—The brat, (and he _so_ is, Yato thinks), opens the door, and lets out a shriek. "Wh—Wh—_What are you doing?!"_ (He sounds like _such_ a girl.)

Hiyori scrambles off of his lap, straightening her skirt. "I—I—It—It wasn't—what it—" (She doesn't seem to notice that she's dropped her body—again.)

"—It was," Yato admits, leaning back with his hands outstretched behind him.

Yukine lets out a cry—he looks like a tomato—and points a finger at Yato, "Y—You—You— I'll have you arrested!"

"For what?" Yato snorts.

"F—For—For being a _pervert!"_

"—And other high crimes and devious misdemeanors." Yato grins.

Yukine looks at him—and looks like he'll faint any minute—and asks: "L—Like what?"

"Yato," Hiyori yelps, "don't you—"

"Like—"

* * *

_a/n: it appears that i have that rare disease where whenever you try to write fluff it ends up as crack. sorry?_


	25. you are my varying constant

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_025./_ you are my varying constant

* * *

"So, Yukine, what does 'x' equal?" Hiyori taps her pen against the workbook.

Yukine bites his lip, grips his pencil. "It—" he pauses, frowns, then sighs. "—I don't know."

"That's alright." Hiyori tells him, and means it. "Just give it a try, 'kay?"

Yukine nods, firmly, and starts scribbling furiously in his notebook.

(Hiyori smiles at the feeling of pride in her chest—at least, until—)

"—What're y'doin'?"

Yato leans over her, smelling like himself—that shouldn't be enough to make her blush, though—and she feels his hair brush against her temple, his jersey against her back.

"I—" Hiyori flushes, "—w—well—I—we—w—we—"

"Get out of here!" Yukine barks, throwing his pencil at Yato.

Yato lets out a cry, flops backwards, and starts rolling and kicking on the floor, pouting. "_Hiyori~!_" he whines. "Yukine's being _mean _to _me~!"_

"You—You're the one who came in in the first place!" Yukine shouts, standing.

"Well, now _you're_ not going to get your pencil back!" Yato sticks his tongue out.

"Like _hell_ you're taking it, you jerk!"

"Like hell _you're_ getting it back!"

"No, you— _Hiyori!"_

"Hiyori!"

(She can't really hear over the beating rush of her heart.)

* * *

_a/n: i think we tend to forget that yato and yukine aren't the _only_ adorkable ones in noragami_. ;)


	26. the inverse of me is you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_026./_ the inverse of me is you

_(a/n: this is _**au**_, sort of.)_

_[for _**Ass-Sassin**_]_

* * *

He sleeps on benches, in shrines, and in gutters—and on buses, 'til he gets kicked off of 'em. (He makes sure to go out kickin' and screamin', though.) Yato sleeps wherever he can, really—with his jersey, and his bottle of coins tucked under his arm.

_"Why don't you go home?"_ Someone asked him, (a boy with blonde hair and orange eyes, the lil' prick).

_Home_. Yato thinks, but it's not very familiar—he had a house, he had people; but it was just that.

_"Loitering hobo_." The boy sneered.

_Yeah_. Yato thought; but he flipped the kid off and told him to go do a few unpleasant things with a pole. (But, _no_, Yato thinks, again—because Yato tries, he does. He takes jobs. He works. And, even though he believes in wishes—flips a five–yen coin in the air and watches it spin and glint in the moonlight—he never asks for anything, [because when he did, he never got it].)

But it's 1 AM, and he is lying on a bench in a shrine dedicated to a god he may believe in. (Nature is too indifferent, and for all the awful shit that's happened to him, Yato _has_ to believe that there is someone up there pulling the strings to screw him over; he can't chalk it up to luck, 'cause he just might say _fuck it_ for good.)

And Yato could use a little divine fortitude.

So, he looks over at the offering slot–box—what kind of scam is _that?_—and he flicks the coin into the hole. And he prays his wish, eyes shut.

Nothing happens, and Yato opens his eyes, and says, "fuck you," to life in general.

"—Well, that's not very nice."

Yato lets out a yelp—a shriek, but, hush—and rolls off of the bench flailing. Then, he scrambles to his rear, backing up like a crab—that reminds him; he's pretty damn hungry—and looks up—up—

—At a girl.

He stares, and then musters up a sigh and a scowl, and says, "What the hell're y'doin' here?"

(She isn't too bad lookin'—brown hair, weird eyes; but hot, still—and he quashes that idea.) She looks at him, and says, "Well, this is _my_ shrine."

"Your—" and he's about to say something a lil' less than polite; but he pauses, and his eyes widen, and he looks at her, "—Y…Your…_shrine?"_

The girl nods, smiles, and he thinks she sticks her tongue out at him—_what the hell?_ Then, out of her pocket, she pulls out something bright and shiny—_no way,_ Yato gawks.

She flips the five yen coin in the air.

"Your wish," she tells him, "has been heard loud and clear."

_No shit_.

* * *

_a/n: ton of credit goes to_ **Ass-Sassin** _for this kickass idea._


	27. we are family

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami_.

* * *

_027./ _we are family

* * *

"Yukki-nī–chan, _higher!"_

"I _am_," Yukine grunts, pushing the swing as hard as he can—but _crap_, she's gotten bigger—and letting it fall back.

Yukari lets out a holler, "Yeah!"

"Yeah, Yukki–nī—!" Yato cackles, swinging next to her. "Push higher!"

Yukine scowls, "Not _you_, dumba—"

"—_Ah, ah, ah,"_ Yato tsks, shaking a finger at him, "No cussing in front of young ears. What if Hiyori found out you were a bad influence on our baby girl?"

"Yeah, Yukki-nī!" Yukari yells.

"The only bad influence on her is _you_," Yukine mutters at Yato, pushing her into the air. "Maybe I should tell Hiyori who taught her the word—"

"—_Shutup!"_ Yato yelps, the chains of his swing rattling as he slows, digging his feet into the gravel.

"What word?" Yukari asks, kicking her legs into the air.

"No word." Yato demands. "No word. What word? I don't know what you're talking about." He babbles.

"Subtle." Yukine deadpans, hands gripping the chains of Yukari's swing as she slows.

"What word?!" Yukari cries.

Yukine and Yato share an anxious glance. "Well—"

* * *

"'kā-chan," Yukari tugs on Hiyori's sleeve, as they walk down the street. "'tō-chan and Yukki-nī taught me a new word." She declares, proudly.

"Oh, really?" Hiyori smiles. "What was it?"

Yukari grins, standing on tiptoes as Hiyori crouches, to whisper in her ear. "…"

* * *

_"Yato! Yukine—!"_

* * *

_a/n: which word do you think she learned? _;)_ [people were asking for more yukari. i was happy to oblige.] _;D

_also, the _**au**_ story i posted last chapter? i'm going to make that into a multi-chapter fic. it'll probably come out in may or june, so, look out for it!_

_also, i'll be participating in **yatori**_** week**___—so, the next 7 drabbles will be based on those prompts!____  
_

_and, on an unrelated note, i'd like to give thanks to my reviewers__—my anon. ones, specifically, since i don't get to thank them personally like i do my account-based reviewers!_ so, **Kelpy**, **Guest**, **Noragami-ed**___—thanks for your support; you guys rock!_**  
**


	28. i wasn't looking, but i found you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_028./ _i wasn't looking, but i found you

* * *

"—_Iki Hiyori!"_

She looks at him. She has spent her whole day chasing after him—a boy and a cat, and she is _very_ tired and _very_ annoyed. (Hiyori wants home—wants to be a middle–school girl worrying about skirt lengths and boy–bands; who they'll be friends with, who they'll fall in love with.) "Why do you know my name…?" She leans a little bit away from him.

He flips a five–yen coin in the air. "Your wish has _certainly_ reached me." He tells her, disgruntled, cat–scratches still fresh on his face. His eyes are _very_ blue.

(_Save me—!_ She had cried.)

Hiyori swallows. (She has not needed saving before, and she does not know how much stock she can place in a boy who looks no older than her—who wears a jersey and takes five–yen coins in exchange for chores.) But it's for that same peculiarity that she asks: "What's your name…?"

(One thing is for sure— She never saw herself here, paying and praying for help from a boy–god over a highway, on a bridge in the middle of the night in the Tōkyō Metropolitan area.)

He stares at her. "Yato." He says. And then: "May our fates continue to intertwine."

She looks at him.

* * *

_(A five–yen coin glints in his pocket.)_

* * *

_a/n: first entry for _**yatori week**: _i.e., 'fate'._


	29. we are tied together always

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_029./_ we are tied together always

(_a/n: this is_ a **future-fic**_ of sorts_)

* * *

Yato sits at the table, looking down at his coffee.

(He has not been back in Tōkyō for a long time—has only visited Kofuku and Daikoku occasionally, and his daughter at her job in Ōsaka. He sees Tenjin and Mayu, Kazum and Vaisravana, in the heavens at meetings—sometimes afterwards, too, for drinks.)

He does not _like_ coming back to Tōkyō, because it reminds him of her—and she has been dead for decades, now; he avoids counting, still, because every second feels like an immeasurable distance between them.

But, still, Yukine called him. (And his Shinki only asks him to come back for good reasons—Yukine understands, though he did not before, with his anger and grief. He loved Hiyori, too.)

"Hey."

Yato looks up.

His Shinki is so much the same boy he had been eighty years ago—still blonde, orange–eyed, looking forever–fourteen. He bites his lip.

"Hey." Yato nods. "So, what's up—?"

—It is then that he notices someone standing behind his Shinki; small, with long, dark hair, and— He swallows. _No._ Yato thinks. _No, it's impossible. It's—_

"—Yato." Yukine swallows, and pulls her forward. "I'd like you to meet _our_ old friend."

* * *

_a/n: for _**yatori week** _entry no. 2—bound._


	30. you have to promise me this

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_030./ _you have to promise me this

* * *

He sits, crouched on her windowsill. "Please—"

"—No."

"Please—"

"—No."

"Please—"

"—_No_." Hiyori turns in her desk–chair, looking at him. "Go away, Yato."

Yato frowns, and his nose scrunches up like it always does. "Please, please, please, _please_," he says, "I _promise_ it'll _never_ happen again. I promise. Really."

She bites her lip.

He looks at her. "Hiyori…?"

She turns in a flurry of movement, opens her window with a _crack_, and looks at him. "It can't happen again." She tells him.

Yato nods. "I promise."

Hiyori's lip quivers, and she throws her arms around him. He smells like home and—well, Yato; how he always does. "You can't leave like that." She whispers, into his jersey. "You—You just can't."

He looks down at her, still crouched on the windowsill, and nods. He presses his hands against her back. "I promise." He whispers.

* * *

_a/n: okay, so this is late. like, _really_ late. i caught a cold. it really sucks. but... i hope you like this lil' ol' drabble anyway._


	31. take my hand in yours

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_031./ _take my hand in yours

* * *

"C'mon!" Hiyori calls, "let's go!" She stands on the beach, the sand squelching between her toes, the water at her knees. "C'mon, Yato, Yukine-kun!" She waves them over.

Yato and Yukine stand uneasily, meters away by their umbrella and picnic basket. Yukine is bright red—_lobster _red—all over, even after two hours at the beach, and his shorts bulge at the legs, (he had blushed when he'd asked her if he could borrow her brothers' clothes—she had smiled and told him _of course_).

Yato is wearing one of those old–fashioned bathers, the one–pieces—Hiyori thinks that the last time she saw one of them was with her grandfather—that is striped with navy and white. He has one of those kiddy–duck–tubes around his waist, with matching floaties on his arms. Parts of his skin are pasty white where he plastered on the sunscreen.

Hiyori covers her hand with her mouth.

"Hey—Hey—!" Yato shouts, pointing a finger at her. "Don't you start laughing!"

"I—I'm not," Hiyori says, even when she is.

Yukine looks at Yao, and says: "Why shouldn't she? You look like a dork."

Yato scoffs, "Yeah? Well, maybe I should've named you _Aka_ne, eh?"

"Sh—Shut up—!" Yukine yells, fists balled.

Hiyori has one hand in his, though, and the other in Yato's before they can do anything about it. "Ne," she says, smiling, "c'mon, let's go. The ocean's waiting!"

* * *

_a/n: i couldn't resist. (also, **aka** means_ red_ in japanese; and the '-ne' is part of yato's shinkis' names, so... that was my attempt at being clever.)_


	32. for the first time, then: again

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_032./_ for the first time, then: again

* * *

"You'll have her home by eight." Yato crosses his arms over his chest. "—_sharp_."

The boy—Tarō–whats–his–face—blinks and splutters, "b—but the movie only ends at _nine_—"

"Eight." Yato demands.

"But—"

"Seven." Yato says.

"H—Hey—!"

"Five."

"You just— You just went down by _two_!"

"Good, you can count," Yato agrees. Then: "four."

The boy gawks. "B—But that—that was _thirty_ minutes ago!"

"Ah, you noticed. Way past her bedtime." Yato nods, then turns in the doorway, and calls: "Yukari, go get changed, you're date's off—"

—His daughter flounces past him, giving him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks for waiting, 'tō-chan." She grins, hooking her arm around the boy's who stands awkwardly in the doorway.

Yato grimaces. "You're too young to date." He mutters.

Yukari pouts, "oh, 'tō-chan," then, she leans forward, gives him a quick hug, and murmurs: "You'll always be my number one guy, 'kay?" She winks. "Next to Yukki-nī-chan."

Yato gives her a pat on the back and nods. "'Kay." He agrees, gruffly, and makes sure to glare at the boy as Yukari drags him down the path. His eyes water just a bit, but that's for him to keep to himself, and he wipes hurriedly at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"She'll be fine."

Yato looks over his shoulder—sees Hiyori standing in the foyer, a smile on her lips. (She's older, now—but all he can see is the bright–eyed, young girl who he fell in love with.) He sighs, theatrically. "She's just like you—boys all over her!"

Hiyori raises an eyebrow. "You were the only boy I ever dated, you know," and she walks forward, lets him put an arm around her shoulder.

"That's because I got you before all the other guys could." Yato tells her, conspiratorially.

She gives him a peck on the cheek. "Glad you did."

* * *

_a/n: [note: 'tarō' is an_ incredibly _common name in japan, so, hence yato's easy use of it.]_ _for_ **yatori week**_ day 5: firsts. (plus, _**Guest**_ requested some protective!daddy!yato, and flirty!yukari who brings all the boys to the yard—well, i may have added that last part—so.) _;)


	33. i'd like to spend a lifetime with you

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

* * *

_033./ _i'd like to spend a lifetime with you

_(a/n: this is an **all-human**_ **au**_)_

* * *

Hiyori leans against his arm.

Yato swallows, blushes, and looks out—the Tōkyō skyline is bright against the night, from the view of the Ferris wheel—he'll have to go home, soon, to his chichi-ue's nagging and Hīro's whining. But for now, he's got the prettiest girl—and the nicest, too—in school on his arm, and he's feeling pretty good.

(He still couldn't believe it when she asked him out—Iki Hiyori, who tutors that punk blonde kid from the middle school. Iki Hiyori, whose parents are so wealthy that kids said they left hundred–dollar tips at restaurants. Iki Hiyori, who's loudmouth friends are constantly around her.)

He still can't really believe it.

"Yato…?" She murmurs.

He looks down and sees her eyes—pink, and pretty, (like everything about her)—staring at him. _Well, shit_. Yato swallows. "Y—Yeah?"

Hiyori bites her lip and smiles, then, shy and sweet. "I—I'm having a good time. Thank you."

Yato nods. "I— I'm having a good time, too," he tells her, softly, and bites his lip. She's close—_really _close—and smells nice, looks nice; he leans down, farther, and—

—She presses a kiss to his lips.

* * *

(Yeah, he's really glad he took her up on her offer.)

* * *

_a/n: for _yatori week_'s day 6 -_ **au**_ (like i don't have enough of those!).__ all human au, where yato's just a punk / dork who's sweet on hiyori, (the cutie). (also, anyone catch yukine's not-so-subtle mentioning in here...?)_


	34. your place is in my heart

Disclaimer: I do not own _Noragami._

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_034./_ your place is in my heart

* * *

They're side by side on Kofuku and Daikoku's porch. He's close—close enough to smell, to touch, and she does exactly that as she leans in, edges her hand closer 'til it touches his, then grips his hand in her own.

Yato blinks, looks at her—his eyes the prettiest blue she's ever seen—and she can see every bit of him; from his dark hair to his jersey to his sweaty hands. (_Don't forget me,_ he had once told her; Hiyori wonders, now, how she ever could.) "What?" He asks.

Hiyori smiles, bumps shoulders with him; then, she leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Nothing." She tells him, though it's not nothing at all. (It's him—all of him, every bit of him that she likes and can't stand at the same time. Every bit of him that she might just love.)

His cheeks are pink as he says, with a bit more bravery: "You know, I can think of another place I'd like you to do that."

"Oh, yeah?" Hiyori says, blushing, and leans in to give him a kiss.

* * *

_a/n: ...and that's it. thank you all for supporting this story, from the very first chapter to this. without this story, without you guys, i would've never started_ **Golden** _or_ **Where Spirits Tread**,_ and i can't thank you enough for it. you guys are the best._


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